


don't call me at all

by goingmywaydoll



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Criminal Jyn, F/M, FBI Agent Cassian, I AM SORRY, Implied Sexual Content, Jyn Erso-centric, Past Relationship(s), i swear i am physically unable to write them happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/pseuds/goingmywaydoll
Summary: “I thought you gave up on bailing me out,” Jyn says when she sees who’s leaning against the counter at the front, filling out paperwork. She ignores the way her breath catches at his rumpled dress shirt, the hint of a beard ghosting across his jaw, long fingers curled around a coffee cup. He sets down the pen with his other hand....In which Jyn gets bailed out by a familiar face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> even in a goddamn modern au i can't make them happy.
> 
> anyway, this takes place in a universe where cassian is an fbi agent and jyn is basically exactly who she is pre-rogue one, except with much less serious crimes. they dated for almost a year, but in the end, cassian just couldn't put up with jyn breaking the law and jyn couldn't put up with his self-righteousness. bodhi is jyn's best friend, kay is cassian's partner (uhhh duh). one day i'll expand upon this universe but today this is all you get.

Like most nights she spends in a jail cell, she doesn’t sleep. There’s only one other person in the cell with her, a small teenager who can’t stop biting her nails and glancing around. Jyn comes close to telling her to fuck off when the girl asks her questions but instead satisfies herself with just rolling her eyes and turning away. The girl doesn’t try to speak again.

“Erso.” A cop—not the one that arrested her—enters the room, a clipboard in tucked under his arm so he can hold a cup of coffee in one hand and a ring of keys in the other. There’s no clock in the room and Jyn pawned her watch months ago but the coffee and dark circles between the cop’s eyes tell her it must be early. “Your bail’s been paid.”

Jyn pushes herself off of the grimy cot, walking over to the bars.

“ _What_?” Her bail is never paid anymore. It hasn’t been since the last time she got caught for something big. She supposed that was the last straw for him. FBI agents shouldn’t sleep with petty criminals and they definitely shouldn’t sleep with girls who get arrested for grand theft auto. 

“You heard me,” the cop says, walking over to the cell to unlock the door.

“Who—“ she starts, but the officer sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Look, I don’t know and I don’t really give a shit. I just process the papers,” he says, grabbing Jyn’s arm and escorting her out of the cell. She doesn’t even glance at her roommate for the night as the officer takes her out into the lobby.

“I thought you gave up on bailing me out,” Jyn says when she sees who’s leaning against the counter at the front, filling out paperwork. She ignores the way her breath catches at his rumpled dress shirt, the hint of a beard ghosting across his jaw, long fingers curled around a coffee cup. He sets down the pen with his other hand. 

Cassian looks up and straightens, his eyes sliding down her body. Jyn tugs at the hem of her shirt, suddenly uncomfortable. He tucks his wallet in his pocket, his own shirt riding up, and she catches the glint of his badge.

“I’d say I thought you gave up petty crime, but I’d never think that,” he says and her jaw clenches.

“I’ll pay you back,” she says, scribbling her signature on the paper that the officer passed her. He hands her back her cell and wallet, barely meeting her eyes, tired and bored with the day already. 

“You’re free to go,” the officer mutters and pushes her towards the door. Jyn doesn’t bother acknowledging him on her way out. Cassian follows her out of the precinct silently. He’s wearing a suit and holding two cups of coffee, one of which he hands to her when she comes to a stop in the parking lot. She wonders if he was on his way to work, if the coffee was really meant for her or for Kay.

She takes the coffee but doesn’t say anything. It has milk and sugar in it and she hates that he remembered how she takes her coffee. Not for Kay, then.

_“What grown woman takes this much sugar in her coffee?” he asked her, making a face as he stole a sip from her mug. She was perched on his kitchen counter, one of his navy button downs wrapped around her small frame._

_“Let me guess,” she said, lifting her legs so she can hook them around his waist and pull him closer, “You take your coffee black with no sugar.” When he didn't answer, his hands coming to rest comfortably on her hips, she smirked, “You are_ such _a cliché.”_

“Need a ride?” he asks.

“No,” she says shortly, though she has no idea how she’ll get back to her apartment, which is miles away. Better than spending a car ride in silence with her ex-boyfriend who will probably be late to work at the FBI if he keeps this up.

“Right, I forgot,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee and setting off towards his car. “You don’t need anything from anyone.”

She watches as he unlocks his car and gets into the driver’s seat. She even waits until he turns the key into the ignition before she calls out, “How did you know I got arrested?”

She can see through the window that he pauses, one hand on the steering wheel. The window on the passenger’s side rolls down.

“I’ll tell if you if you let me give you a ride,” he says and she snorts.

“What, so I can owe you one more thing? Fat chance.”

“You know, Jyn,” he says, sounding more tired than she’s ever heard him, “One of these days you're going to realize that not everything I do is to maintain the moral high ground with you.”

She can’t think of what to say, so she gets into the car wordlessly, staring stubbornly out the window as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Bodhi called me,” he says a couple minutes later. She finally turns to look at him, her brow furrowed. “You asked me how I knew you were arrested. Bodhi called me.”

“Oh,” she says, because she can’t think of anything to say. She should have known better than to have Bodhi be her phone call. Baze or Chirrut would have been better—she would have dealt with their amused teasing over Bodhi calling Cassian. But in the moment, Bodhi’s sad eyes seemed much better than the other two. At this point, she’d take all three of them at once than this.

It isn’t until one silent minute stretches to five, then ten, then nearly fifteen when she realizes she hasn’t told him how to get to her apartment. He’s making all the right turns and she finds herself surprised that he remembers the route. She’s kept her eyes resolutely turned towards the window, but she can’t help but turn her head toward Cassian as he pulls over in front of the deli she lives above. He turns his head towards her, one hand still on the steering wheel. 

When she’d first met him, she had wondered how someone could have no trouble with ridding his face of any expression. But after months of smiles that made his eyes crinkle at the edges—and the way his mouth thinned when he was angry, and how, early on, his lips would twitch upward almost imperceptibly, as if he didn’t want her to know she made him smile, and how he would wake her up sometimes by ghosting his fingers up her arm, sending goosebumps across her skin and tugging her from her sleep—she realized that it was schooling his features into something impassive that took effort, not the rest. 

She wonders how she ever thought that of him, what with the way he’s looking at her now. She can’t think of what to say to him now that he hasn’t a reason to stay around and she is so desperately unable to give him one.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says, her voice small. She hates herself for it, for the slight tremble no one but Cassian would notice. She can tell he does, by the way his lips part just barely. She should be getting out of the car withouta backward glance, but she isn’t, she’s rooted to this damn seat. Cassian shifts in his seat, not enough to be turned towards her, but enough that the badge clipped to his belt is turned towards the sun, reflecting the light brightly off of it. It was never hard to miss even without the glint of sunlight anyway. 

She almost wants to invite him up. She thinks he would follow, if she asked. She nearly opens her mouth to ask him, but she thinks of the last time he was in her apartment, the things she’d said and how, after, she had just barely caught his whisper against her bare skin.

_“I can’t do this anymore.”_

She had made him coffee while he dressed and he had wanted to kiss her at her door, but he hadn’t. She had heard him calling Kay in the hallway about being on his way to the office after her door swung shut. The only thing she hadn’t let herself do was watch his car pull away from her window.

“Jyn…” he says and it doesn’t sound like a plea or even a question. 

_I can’t do this anymore_.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” she says quickly, turning before she can think better of it and putting her hand on the door. The lock clicks into place and her snaps around to look at him, her brow knit. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“I—“ he starts, but can’t seem to finish the thought. “I have the day off.”

“So you’re kidnapping me on your day off?” she asks, one eyebrow crooked. “Wait. You don’t take days off.” She knows, because she had once asked him to give her a long weekend, just the two of them on the beach somewhere close by. 

_“I don’t take days off,” he had said, his lips twitching upwards._

_Jyn had slungher arms around his neck, tilting her head to the side and saying, “I can be very convincing.”_

Evidently not convincing enough, because he left for work the next morning with not much more than a kiss to her forehead and a note that she was out of milk.

“It’s not…optional,” he says slowly, like he’s not sure he wants to say the words aloud. 

“What did you do?” she asks, because FBI agents don’t take nonoptional days off for no reason.

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging jerkily. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs before practically pushing the words from his mouth, “It was decided I was stretching myself too thin. Putting myself in danger.”

“That’s not anything new.” And it isn’t. Cassian is the type of person to live off black coffee and sacrificing everything he has for people he’s never met. She’d like to say that’s why they never worked out, but it isn’t true and she knows it. She studies him for a moment longer before it hits her. “You got hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he says, fast as anything. “I was tired and I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to draw his gun.”

“You got _shot_?” she asks, all the breath sucked from her lungs in the span of a second. It leaves her winded and her heart pounding. She wants to ask why he didn’t call her, but she supposes she didn’t call him last night.

“Just in the leg,” he says and she scoffs at that. _Just_ in the leg. “Jyn, I am _fine_.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, instead pursing her lips and glaring out the window. Cassian parked illegally and any minute the owner of the deli is going to come out and yell at him to leave, probably in Spanish if he recognizes him. 

“Why did you lock the door?” she asks, keeping her head still turned away from his.

“I’m still not entirely sure,” he says. There’s a pause and then the lock clicks again, telling her she can leave if she likes. 

She doesn’t.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches across the console to pull his head towards hers and presses her lips to his. It’s messy and her seatbelt is digging into her shoulder but his fingers are threading through her hair, his lips moving against hers effortlessly, like he’s falling back into an old habit, as if he hadn’t ever stopped kissing her, and it feels like _home_.

If she were a different person, she’d crawl into his lap or invite him up, it wouldn’t matter, but she wouldn’t pull away this time.

But Jyn has not changed much since their break up, so she forces herself to pull away, ignoring the way Cassian’s lips chase hers, his eyes still closed. His eyes open just as she twists back into her seat, unbuckling herself and throwing herself out of the car before he can react and she can change her mind. He calls her name, but it’s lost in the sound of the car door slamming shut. 

A part of her wonders if he’ll follow, but as she slides her key into the door and runs up the narrow stairs, she knows he didn’t. 

It’s the middle of the morning on a Tuesday but Jyn collapses on her couch anyway, pulling the blanket that had been hanging over the back up to her chin. Her eyes fall shut of their own accord and she wills herself to push the memory of Cassian’s lips against hers away. 

It nearly works, until her phone rings.

“I’m going to kill you,” she says when she picks up the phone, already noting the caller ID.

“Is that _really_ what you want to say to me after spending a night in jail?” Bodhi asks, but his tone betrays his anxiety. 

“You called _Cassian_?” she snaps, throwing the blanket off and sitting up. She stomps across the room into her kitchen, scowling though she knows Bodhi can’t see her. 

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Bodhi tries and she can visualize the pleading look on his face as she pours coffee grounds into a filter, the phone held in place between her ear and her shoulder.

“Literally anyone else,” she says. “You could have called anyone else but my ex, who just _happens_ to be an _FBI agent_.”

“You know I haven’t got the money to bail you out every two weeks and Chirrut and Baze have lives. He was the only person I could think of to get you out.”

“So leave me in there next time,” Jyn says, drumming her fingers against the counter as she watches the coffee drip into the kettle. 

“Jyn—“

“If you’re going to call Cassian, you might as well leave me in jail,” Jyn says, cutting him off. There’s silence on the other end and all Jyn can hear are distant shouts down the street, a siren, a honk, and the slow _dripdrop_ of the coffee machine. 

“Was it really that bad?” Bodhi asks finally, his voice soft like he’s afraid of her answer.

She’s tempted to say _yes_ harshly and hang up the phone, but Bodhi would only call back or worry and she doesn’t want either of those things.

“No,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. The coffee is done, but she’s out of mugs. She rinses out the blue one with the chipped handle (the one that Cassian always used, but she pushes that thought into the box at the back of her mind and shuts it) and pours the coffee into it. Her hand trembles a little as she puts two spoons of sugar into the mug. Bodhi still hasn’t said anything.

“I’m sorry I called him,” he says, the pause stretching so long that Jyn has already a quarter of the mug. 

“S’all right,” Jyn says, because she’s tired and because Bodhi is genuinely sorry. “Just…please don’t do it again.”

“I won’t but…”

He takes so long to finish the thought that Jyn has to prompt him. “Bodhi?”

“If you’re in trouble, like _really_ in trouble again—“

“Then I don’t want him to know,” she interrupts. “Besides, I won’t be, not again.”

“He thinks about you.” Bodhi blurts it out so quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth, that Jyn barely catches it but she does. 

“…Bodhi…” she says, because she knows what he’s thinking and he can’t because if he vocalizes it, then she might think it too and she can’t go down that road, not again.

“Don’t you think that if,” Bodhi pauses, and she can picture the way he’s probably chewing his lip in thought, “If you both are feeling so…if you’re feeling the way you do, that could maybe be a sign? That this isn’t supposed to be happening.”

“We broke up, Bodhi,” Jyn says flatly. “There aren’t any signs anymore.”

“D’you know the first thing Cassian said to me when I called him this morning?” 

“No, and I don’t _want_ to know,” Jyn says, though she knows Bodhi will probably tell her anyway.

He does. “He said ‘Is Jyn okay?’ The _first_ thing he said.”

“You’re my friend, not his, Bodhi. He had no reason to think a call from you would be about anyone but me,” she says and she wonders if it fails to convince Bodhi as much as it fails to convince her. 

“But—“

“ _Bodhi._ ” It comes out a little harsher than she intended, but if it gets the point across… “I’ve not slept in twenty hours and I don’t want to have this conversation now. Or ever. I’m going to sleep tonight and I don’t want to yell at you next time we talk. So please hang up the phone without another word.”

“Fine,” he says, “I _am_ sorry for calling him.”

“I know.” She takes a sip of her coffee and it burns her tongue. “I’ll call you after work tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

 

* * *

 

Her phone rings at two am on a Friday and her first thought is fear. It’ll be Bodhi, with news that Cassian’s been hurt while on duty. She only remembers that Cassian is taking time off when her hand blindly reaches out for her phone and picks it up without checking the name across the screen.

“‘Lo?” she says into the phone, rubbing her eyes as she sits up in bed. There isn’t an answer, but she can distantly hear music in the background and loud voices too. “Hello?” she says again, seconds away from hanging up and going back to sleep.

“Jyn.” Her breath catches in her throat. She shouldn’t be able to tell that it’s him, not with all the noise in the background, but she can, she can tell by the timbre of his voice, the small sigh that follows her name.

“Cassian?” she says and it sounds like a question, though it isn’t.

He swears in Spanish and there’s a pause.

(She’s imagining him running a hand through his hair like he does when he’s agitated.) 

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Cassian—“ she says again, but the sounds of the bar—that’s where she assumes he is—are replaced by a dial tone. She takes the phone from her ear and holds it in her hand, staring at the now dark screen. She wonders if she should call him back, or pretend it never happened. 

She doesn’t have to make the decision.

This time, when her phone lights up with his name, she picks it up on the first ring.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the sounds from the bar more muted than they had been.

“Are you drunk?” she asks because she can hear him more clearly now and she’s achingly familiar with the way his voice sounds when he’s sober and when he’s not.

“Is that the only situation in which I would apologize to you?” he asks, laughing humorlessly. 

“No, you just…I know what you sound like when you're sober and you don’t sound it right now,” she says, leaning back against her pillows and crossing her legs. It’s dark, the only light in her room a dull orange glow from the streetlamp outside. She flicks on the light on her bedside table and squints with the new brightness, but adjusts. “Why are you calling me?”

Cassian doesn’t respond immediately and she didn’t expect him to.

“Kay is in the bathroom and he had been making sure that I didn’t call you all night,” he says and Jyn can imagine it: Cassian’s partner threatening who knows what if Cassian called her. Maybe he would even try to confiscate his phone. But it doesn’t answer her question and she says so.

“Because if I wasn’t drunk right now, I’d drive to you,” he says and she bites the inside of her cheek so hard tears spring to her eyes. “So calling was the other option.”

“I miss you, Jyn,” he says, slow enough for her to know he thought deeply about saying it, as he always does. She can’t find the words to say in response. _I miss you too_ feels callous, a cheap imitation of his words. They don’t cover what she’s feeling right now.

The silence stretches on, the phone pressed tightly to her ear so she can catch even the slightest sound from him. She can picture him standing stock-still on the sidewalk outside the bar, waiting for her response, wondering if he should say something more. 

“Jyn?” he asks carefully.

“I’m here,” she says, if only to assuage his fears that she’s hung up. He’s drunk and his words and emotions are flowing freely. She’s not as lucky—she is going through every possible outcome to every word that could come out of her mouth. It’s odd, this reversal of roles.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he says when she remains quiet. “I shouldn’t have left, not when I knew everyone else you l—“ He breaks off before he gets the rest of the word out, remembering suddenly that they had never told each other that. “You’re so used to being left behind,” he says and if he was here, she would probably slap him for that. “I knew that and I left anyway.”

“Bodhi hasn’t left me,” she says suddenly. “Not _everyone_ I love leaves me.”

“It’s different with me, no?”

“How do you know?” she accuses because she feels like being cruel to him for apologizing. “How do you know Bodhi and I aren’t together? I hadn’t seen you in months before last week, we could have—“

“Because if that was true, you would have thrown it in my face long before this conversation.” She hates that he’s right.

And she’s almost relieved when she hears the familiar tones of Kay, muted in the background.

“I am fine, Kay,” she hears Cassian say, his voice sounding far away. “Really, it’s not anything.”

She hears a rustling and then Cassian hisses, “ _Seriously?_ ”

“ _Clearly_ , you are not capable of sound decision making,” Kay says, his voice sounding closer. 

“Are you five years old?” Cassian says and his voice sounds more tired than truly annoyed. 

“Hello, Jyn.” Kay’s smooth voice is no longer muted in the background—he’s taken the phone from Cassian.

“Kay.”

“I am going to hang up the phone now,” says Kay and Jyn can’t help but raise one eyebrow, though she knows he can’t see her.

“Are you?” she asks.

“What do you mean? Of course I am!” The indignation is back, and he no longer sounds coolly indifferent to her. 

“If you were going to hang up the phone, you would have done it the second you grabbed it from Cassian,” she reasons and Kay goes quiet.

“You heard that?”

“I assumed.”

“Kay, give me back my phone.” Jyn just barely catches Cassian’s voice and there’s more rustling, making her weigh the probability of the two of them wrestling for the phone on the pavement. 

“I will return your phone if you swear not to call her again.”

Even if Cassian was close to the receiver, Jyn is certain she still wouldn't be able to hear anything. 

“Jyn?” Cassian’s voice crackles through the phone after a full two minutes of muffled talking, none of which Jyn was able to discern. She had let herself hope, just for a second, that it would be Kay on the other line, saying that Cassian had refused to never call her again, and hearing Cassian’s voice is a punch to the gut. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Oh. It’s all right,” she says. He doesn’t sound much different, no more resigned or tired than he usually does. “I was up anyway.”

“No, you weren’t,” Cassian says, a hint of a laugh behind his words. “I should go, Kay is—“

“I know,” she says but neither moves to hang up. 

“Jyn—“ Cassian starts, but it’s too late and the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“Goodnight, Cassian.”

The line goes dead.

 

* * *

 

A week later, when she is perched on her counter in her pajamas at ten am, eating cold pasta and holding the classifieds, her phone buzzes on the counter. She picks it up without thinking. 

“Jyn here,” she says, bored already as she flips the page of the newspaper.

“It’s Cassian,” he says and she drops her phone. “Are you all right?” His words are rushed and worried and she can hear him moving quickly even through the phone. 

“Yeah, fine. I dropped my phone,” she says.

“‘Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence so long it makes her wonder if he had a reason for calling. 

“How does Kay feel about this?” she asks because she can picture him so clearly, leaned back in his chair, maybe with his sleeves rolled up and his feet on the desk. 

“He’s not in the office today,” Cassian says, laughing under his breath. “I don’t have a death wish.”

She almost says, “Could have fooled me,” but that feels particularly cruel when he’s only just got back to work. 

“About last week…” he starts slowly.

“It’s fine,” she says before he can finish the thought. “I know it didn’t mean anything.”

“Right, of course, good,” he says, recovering so quickly she wonders if maybe everything was really good for him, if he agreed with her lie. 

“At least, it didn’t for me,” she says, setting down the tupperware of pasta and feeling sick.

“Me neither,” he says. “I was drunk and I apologize.”

“No need.”

“Good.” She can hear him sigh on the other end. “Glad we are…on the same page.”

“Me too.”

“Look, I should go…Kay is back and he is mad enough already,” Cassian says. “Goodbye, Jyn.” 

The dial tone echoes in her ear before she has the chance to realize how flimsy his lie was. 

She goes to work and makes enough on tips to make rent for the month, but only by a hair. It’s midnight by the time she gets home, feet aching and eyelids heavy.

She’s tired enough to think she’s hallucinating when she sees Cassian leaning against the wall beside her door. He glances up at the sharp intake of breath she can’t help stop.

“I don’t think we’re on the same page,” he says, pushing off the wall, but he doesn’t move any more than that. She shifts from foot to foot, twisting her keys between her fingers. “At least, I don’t think I am. Would you to…” he pauses and she can tell he’s just testing the words on his tongue, “Get a drink. Or something.”

“Or something?” She arches one eyebrow. Cassian shrugs.

“Or something.”

“I’ve only just got off work,” she says, still fidgeting. 

“Oh.” Cassian nods but he won’t look at her. “I should have called, I—“

“No, s’fine,” Jyn says and Cassian lifts his head again to meet her eyes. He looks nearly as tired as she does and it’s probably only because he’s better at hiding it. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t want to see you?” he asks, a humorless smile pulling at his lips.

“Not since we broke up, no,” she says, almost relishing in the flinch that flashes across Cassian’s face, quick as anything.

“I’ll go, I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” She doesn’t say anything as he passes her.

“You can stop…checking up on me,” she says and he pauses before the door to the stairwell, his hand on the doorknob. He only turns when she lets out a long breath and continues, “I’m fine, I’m not going to get arrested anytime soon, so you can stop pretending to be my parole officer.”

A flicker of confusion crosses Cassian’s face, his brow knit in a frown as he turns to fully face her.

“That is not what I am doing,” he says, stepping forward.

“Isn’t it?” she asks, jutting her chin out, her jaw set. He shakes his head and she almost wants to take a step back to compensate for how close he’s gotten. She stands her ground. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I am not—“ he breaks off, the rest of his words swallowed by his scoff. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair and she wills herself to keep her line of sight straight and steady. “I am not babysitting you, Jyn.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Right now? Trying to kiss you, actually.”

She can’t help it—her heart stutters in her chest at that, her lips parting in surprise. She can’t stop her gaze from flickering downwards to Cassian’s lips either, which have curled into a small, smug grin.

“Oh.”

“Nothing to say to that?” he asks. 

She can’t differentiate between the moment Cassian’s head tilts downwards and the moment he presses his mouth to hers, both hands cupping her cheeks. She hates the sigh that he draws from her lips as he tugs her closer. Her arms wrap around his neck and she steps backward, pulling him with her, so her back hits her front door, her lips still moving against his effortlessly.

When she pulls away, her arms coming to rest at her side rather than around his neck, Cassian’s eyes watch her keenly. He takes a step back and can pinpoint the moment when his face goes from dazed to devoid of any discernible emotion. She twists around and his hands drop from her hips as she lifts her shaking hand, still holding her keys, up to the lock. Cassian is either extremely confident or has already deduced what she’s doing, because he steps forward, his hands returning to her hips as she inserts the key into the lock. She can feel his breath on the top of her head and has to blink hard to pull her concentration back to unlocking her door.

The lock clicks open, her hand going to the knob but she doesn’t make any move to turn it. 

“Just this once,” she says, just under a whisper. She can feel him tense against her, his fingers digging into her hips a measure tighter than they had before. “After this, I don’t want you to keep this up. Checking in on me—even if it isn’t babysitting. I can’t—“ The words catch in her throat and she shuts her eyes tightly again before forcing them out. “I can’t keep doing this. If we’re over, I want it to be over. For good.”

“We weren’t over before?” he asks. He hasn’t moved an inch since she unlocked the door and she would think he was holding his breath if she couldn’t feel it against her skin.

“After this, you can’t show up to bail me out anymore. You can’t call me from a bar with Kay. You can’t show up at my door. I’ll—I’ll refuse your money, change my number, _move_ for fuck’s sake,” she says. Now that the words have been said, they tumble from her mouth quickly before she can think any better, or about what she wants. Right now all she can think about is Cassian’s mouth against hers, his hands on her hips, and the way it feels to thread her fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” he says and she pretends that she’s imagining how forced the word sounds. She turns the doorknob, they tumble into her apartment, and there isn’t more talking between them for the rest of the night.

When she wakes the next morning, there’s a dent in the pillow beside her, but no Cassian. 

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was going to be a fic about how cassian comes back into jyn's life after they break up and they get back together but honestly, i wrote the scene where they make up over and over and over again and i hated it every time so instead you guys got this and for that, i apologize.


End file.
